


A Timely Correction

by hellscabanaboy



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Abuse of Power, Dom/sub, M/M, Mitsunari needs a safeword, Needles, Punishment, Warning: Hanbei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellscabanaboy/pseuds/hellscabanaboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes more than Mitsunari realizes to offer himself to the Toyotomi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Timely Correction

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to letterblade for shooshpapping me enough that I actually finished this and also for the goddamn title

Mitsunari's ears ring with the smack of Lord Hanbei's palm across his face.

He reels back, more from surprise than any pain, has to fight to remain kneeling upright. Already he's weak from exhaustion, but that's hardly enough reason to delay in making his report to Lord Hanbei. He came as soon as he quit the field - as soon as he could move from where he had fallen, the dust and blood of battle still streaking his armor. In his right hand he holds aloft the head of the enemy general, tightly enough that his fingers are cramping in its hair.

"Lord Hanbei," he manages, "why...?"

"Because, Mitsunari-kun," Lord Hanbei replies, "you still insist on repeating this foolishness each and every time."

Lord Hanbei stalks up to him, slowly and carefully. He can't keep back a flinch, although he has no right to resist if Lord Hanbei wishes to hit him again, but he just plucks the head from Mitsunari's blood-caked fingers and tosses it to the side without so much as a glance.

"An army runs on discipline, you understand." Lord Hanbei says. "On each and every man falling into place to build a stronger whole, not rushing forward haphazardly in search of their own renown. _Not_ throwing themselves headlong at the enemy to get themselves killed!"

His tone rises until he's nearly shouting, and the peace Mitsunari had felt in battle is quickly replaced by hot terror. He's never seen this barefaced rage. Not from Lord Hanbei. He knows he's committed a great error. He already regrets it utterly. Hopes desperately that he can redeem himself. He wishes he knew what it was.

"Did you even consider when you rushed in that such a man would be under guard?" Lord Hanbei demands. "Or didn't you want the reality of the situation to interfere with your chance for glory?"

"I wasn't seeking glory!" The protest comes before he has a chance to think, although it's unbelievably impudent for him to argue with Lord Hanbei. "My lord, I knew the risk when I chose to advance! It was unnecessary for you to send men in after me. I would have been glad to die there, knowing I had served Lord Hideyoshi to the last of my strength--"

Lord Hanbei backhands him this time, with enough force to knock him down. He tastes blood on the inside of his cheek.

"Never speak again," he says, "of things you don't understand."

By the time he dares raise his head, Lord Hanbei has turned away from him, the twist of his lips only just visible in profile. His fingers tremble minutely before Mitsunari's eyes.

"I've told you before, Mitsunari-kun." Lord Hanbei continues, terribly soft and still. "Time and time again. Your life is a resource, and it belongs to Hideyoshi. You are not to squander it, as you seem intent on doing every time you're allowed loose on the battlefield."

Every note of Lord Hanbei's voice resonates with barely restrained rage. Even from behind, Mitsunari sees the tension in the rise and fall of his shoulders. If anything, his stillness is even more dreadful than the open anger had been. He almost wishes Lord Hanbei would strike him again. It would be easier to take then the weight of his judgment.

"I...you're right, Lord Hanbei," he replies. "I don't understand. I live for Lord Hideyoshi - how could I refuse to die for him as well, if it's in the service of his victory?" He swallows, forces himself to look up. "I know you yourself would do no less."

"Oh, certainly," says Lord Hanbei. "If it were necessary." He turns back to Mitsunari, and his face is completely blank, devoid even of cruelty. "Yes, I would give my life for Hideyoshi's sake, in all due time. And before then, I would give him everything else. All my craft, my understanding, every moment of my labors. It's the least that the vision of the Toyotomi demands, before I'd do anything so wasteful as to die for him. It's really not that difficult, dear. Believe me."

Lord Hanbei studies him for a long moment, his lips pressed flat together and his eyes sharp. Mitsunari holds his breath. Lord Hanbei understands far more than he could ever hope to. If he claims that Mitsunari has failed to give all he owes to Lord Hideyoshi, then Mitsunari knows it to be true beyond the slightest doubt. He can only hope that Lord Hanbei will be generous enough to allow him to remedy his transgression.

"If you truly believe you can do him as much service with one moment's vainglorious sacrifice, then I have no more time to waste on you. But if you're willing to correct the error, I'm certain I can come up with a punishment suited to your offense."

"Please give me the chance to earn your forgiveness, my lord!" shouts Mitsunari. "I'll gladly accept any punishment!"

A faint sour smile crosses Lord Hanbei's face. "Of course you will."

He turns on his heel once more, starts to walk out. "You will consider what you've done and where you've been wrong until I decide to permit you in my presence. I hope by then you'll be able to justify my continued trust in you. Not merely for your own sake, but for the sake of what you owe to Hideyoshi."

"Thank you, Lord Hanbei," Mitsunari bows. "I won't waste your generosity."

"You're dismissed, Mitsunari-kun," says Lord Hanbei, and leaves him to stagger to his feet.

***

"Do you understand now why you're being punished, Mitsunari-kun?" Lord Hanbei asks.

Mitsunari kneels on hardwood, his eyes fixed on the floor before Lord Hanbei's feet. The chill air has him shivering in his simple kosode, but more so at being under the severity of Lord Hanbei's eye. He can still feel the cold anger behind every one of his movements, piercing through him as surely as steel.

"Lord Hanbei," he says, "I know I've been wrong in how I've chosen to offer myself to Lord Hideyoshi. I'm grateful to you for letting me realize that. Please allow me to accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate!

"But my lord, I still don't understand. It's my duty as a Toyotomi soldier to offer my life in Lord Hideyoshi's service! If you tell me that it's wrongful, I can only beg you to help me understand what could be right! Please, Lord Hanbei, give me the chance to remedy my error!"

"It's a start," says Lord Hanbei after a long pause. "But you're resistant. You cling to your own petty ideas of what's right instead of the reality of what Hideyoshi asks of you." His face softens, only slightly, but to Mitsunari it's pure relief.

"You're very strong, Mitsunari-kun. Not being able to use you would be a great loss to the Toyotomi, and I know you would never want that. So I'll have you learn what's required of you, from the very beginning if necessary."

Mitsunari thrills to hear the praise, that Lord Hanbei would believe in him even when he's disappointed him so. He's ready to do whatever it might take to make sure that belief is justified.

"You've been permitted a great opportunity, to serve Hideyoshi as you do," Lord Hanbei continues. "He's placed such trust in you, as a soldier, an administrator, a councilor...my dear, don't believe it's any small thing that he's allowed you into his bed. Such trust comes with responsibilities of its own, you realize. You can't be permitted to deprive him the benefit of that, not before he's deemed it necessary.

"I hope one day to be able to impress on you the value of a life, Mitsunari-kun. Until then, you can at least recognize to whom the right to spend it belongs."

Lord Hanbei crouches beside him, slips the robe from his shoulders to expose his chest and back. Mitsunari shivers at the brush of his gloved fingertips. The soft touch is no different from when Lord Hanbei has chosen to take him to bed, but his face is still stern and distant, making clear to Mitsunari his displeasure.

"No, Mitsunari-kun," says Lord Hanbei quietly. "You're not to move, not unless I say you may. That's rather the idea of this, really."

He turns aside and starts assembling his items - a small box, towels, a basin of water. None of them look to Mitsunari like instruments of punishment. It's hardly reassuring, knowing what Lord Hanbei is capable of.

"I had thought to have you whipped," says Lord Hanbei slowly, "as punishment for breaking ranks. But you don't need that, really. If bodily harm could cure you of your foolishness, it would have been dealt with long ago. No, the last thing you need is more reinforcement that your obligation can be fulfilled by such a simple sacrifice."

He opens the box and removes a long, fat needle, holds its point to the light before Mitsunari's eyes. "Not a word," he murmurs at Mitsunari's intake of breath. "In fact, I'll have you silent, until I decide you may speak."

He guides Mitsunari's arms behind his back as well, making sure he crosses them firmly together. "I don't want to have to bind you, dear," he says. "It's not much to offer, if you have to be forced every step of the way. So make certain you consider what it is you need to understand from this."

Mitsunari repeats Lord Hanbei's words to himself in his head. Not to move. Not to speak. To learn what's required of him. They hold him as implacably as any restraint.

Lord Hanbei pauses before beginning, leisurely maps out a path with his fingertips across the canvas of Mitsunari's torso. The wait already makes Mitsunari nervous, his breath quickening, but Lord Hanbei is paying him no further mind, intent on his work. He sets the needle across the flesh of Mitsunari's ribs, takes hold of the taut skin in his other hand. Mitsunari tries to hold back his shivers, and waits.

For an instant he feels the needle slide through his flesh in minute detail, and he sucks in a shocked breath - then it's done, a bright spot of pain ebbing into dullness on his skin. It hurts almost less than he'd expected - it's only one spot, after all, only as deep as the skin - but it's a nagging ache where it sits lodged in his flesh. Lord Hanbei taps it softly, nudges it further into him, and even though the pain has almost completely passed he has to struggle to keep back a gasp as he feels it move.

He doesn't give Mitsunari even a moment to rest before the next needle, precisely symmetrical on his other side, then another, just above the first. Each one is a fine spot of pain, hardly difficult for Mitsunari to tolerate, but as they multiply he can feel the skin stretch around them, leaving him raw and tender everywhere they've touched. He's agonizingly aware of his entire body, of every inch of flesh that can be broken and violated so easily to pin him down with what seems a dreadful weight of metal. He can't ignore them, can't get accustomed to them, no matter how he tries to look away.

Lord Hanbei's gloved fingers are cool, almost clinical. He doesn't spare so much as a glance up at Mitsunari, focused more on the parallel lines of needles marching up his torso than any reaction he can give. It's only right that he shouldn't concern himself. There can be no questioning the punishment that he has chosen. It's only Mitsunari's weakness that makes him want to see Lord Hanbei's face as he endures.

The sharp, relentless pain has his breaths coming hard and fast, nearly in panic. It takes every bit of concentration Mitsunari has to remain still when he wants to flinch away, wants to run, wants to knock Lord Hanbei's hands away from his too tender skin. Just the knowledge that he could wish such a thing makes him sick with remorse. He ought to offer himself willingly for punishment; instead every muscle is tensed as if for flight, his hands clamped on his wrists behind his back to avoid the temptation of resistance.

He knows now that he deserves every bit of the pain Lord Hanbei has decreed for him. And still, selfishly, he wants nothing more than to let it stop.

The column of needles climbs relentlessly to his chest. Lord Hanbei pauses to rub a thumb across his nipple, stroking it into hardness with deliberate motions, and the mockery of a tender touch is nearly enough to overwhelm him. His breath comes in short gasps, thick with the strain of not crying out. Lord Hanbei pays no mind to his efforts. All he requires is Mitsunari's flesh.

When he looks down to see, Lord Hanbei is already holding the needle to the flushed skin of his nipple. He barely bites off his scream as it's forced into place.

The pain doesn't fade quickly this time, either. He's acutely fixed on the needle forcing the hard flesh apart, and all the others around it, the countless times his skin is opened and held there. All he can think of is to curl up around the wounds, to protect himself from any further intrusion, and he mustn't, he can't. To move is even more unthinkable than to endure.

The symmetry of the needles' placement makes it clear what Lord Hanbei intends next. He's never been so helpless as when Lord Hanbei's fingers find his other nipple, watches silently as he rolls it between thumb and forefinger until the flesh is warm and ready.

"Sit up straight, Mitsunari-kun," Lord Hanbei admonishes as Mitsunari jerks and writhes around the next needle, his tone chillingly disinterested. Mitsunari kneels further up on his heels to present himself, feels the needles shift minutely under his skin with each tiny movement. It's terribly easy to obey, now, when all he can think of is getting away. His body hardly feels like his own to move, laid open thoroughly as one great wound.

Lord Hanbei steps back, surveys what he's made of Mitsunari, and the expression on his face when he finally looks up is one of unconcealed delight, sharp and savage and beautiful all the same. He's hard, too, just visible in outline beneath his uniform. Even through the pain, Mitsunari thrills to see it.  If he can afford Lord Hanbei some pleasure, even in this, then maybe he still has some hope of earning his forgiveness. Of redeeming himself from that terrible anger.

"Well, Mitsunari-kun?" he asks, running a feather-light finger up his chest to flick cruelly at his nipple. "Do you think you've had enough?"

Mitsunari doesn't know how to answer. He's not permitted to answer. His punishment is for Lord Hanbei to choose. _He just wants it to end._   He has no place to voice an opinion.

"Well?" says Lord Hanbei at his long silence. "You may speak."

"Please, Lord Hanbei," Mitsunari says, "please, allow me to pleasure you." He nearly quails at the sound of his own voice, weak and fluttery from the strain of bearing up under the punishment. He couldn't possibly be aroused himself, but the thought of servicing Lord Hanbei is such a comfort. That his body could see rightful use, when all he can know of it is violation. "It's not for me to decide what happens to me," he begs, the only answer he can give, "but please, please, don't allow my wrongdoing to deny you any pleasure."

Lord Hanbei reaches out to cup his face in exquisitely soft fingers. "Oh, Mitsunari, dear," he murmurs, his smile ever so gentle and so rueful, "You know that's not what this is about. I'm not doing this for my own gratification, you realize. This is to teach you to give consideration to what's required." He purses his lips, doesn't look Mitsunari in the eye. "I had expected better of you," he says, his voice soft as breath.

Mitsunari feels sick, the weight of his errors redoubled upon him yet again. Even now he's dared to ask a favor, a _mercy_ , from his own selfishness when Lord Hanbei is going to such effort to demonstrate for him how wrong he's been. He ought to consider himself grateful, that Lord Hanbei considers him worthy of the effort. He must try to be grateful.

He must let Lord Hanbei decide how he serves, now; he knows his own choices to be utterly inadequate.

"I understand, Lord Hanbei," he says simply, shakily. He feels as though his voice might give out.

Lord Hanbei lifts his chin, turns his head from side to side in his fingers. "I believe you're beginning to." He peers into Mitsunari's eyes, one cool hand on his forehead, brushing his hair back for a better view. Holds him at a distance, searching.

"No," he says softly, almost to himself. "I don't think you're done just yet."

Mitsunari could almost weep at the tenderness in his voice, and in his hands as he reaches down to undo the sash of Mitsunari's kosode from around his waist. He draws the robe aside, guides Mitsunari's legs apart until he can kneel in between them. The brush of Lord Hanbei's fingers over his hip makes him twitch, and when they drift back up to his chest he nearly convulses as the needles move inside oversensitized flesh. He only barely manages to choke back his groan.

"Remember, Mitsunari-kun," says Lord Hanbei, his voice distant once more, and the next needle is already a bright cool point against the heated skin of his hip. "Stillness and silence."

If anything, the chance to rest has only made the pain seem worse. He's far too tender across every inch of his body, and each new piercing only adds to the terrible weight.  He's a foreign thing inside his own skin, just a body to be impaled at will, and if he can muster any conscious effort, it only goes to keeping back his sobs.

"Dying is a very simple thing, you realize," Lord Hanbei says as he works. "It takes no strength whatsoever, quite the contrary, really. The weak die in countless numbers every day, unable to accomplish anything whatsoever but that simple vain offering. Unable even to draw another breath." He punctuates his words in Mitsunari's flesh with needles as sharp as his voice. "Do you imagine Hideyoshi could possibly have use for that?"

Mitsunari can barely keep his mind on the reprimand, because Lord Hanbei is reaching down to take his cock in his hand. He pulls gently at the soft flesh, lifts it to get at the underside. Mitsunari jerks and twists away from the insistent touch, his breath harsh and panicked. He's as weak as Lord Hanbei says, not worth the trouble of Lord Hideyoshi's use, and he knows it and regrets it utterly. He wants to change. He wants to be better. But all he can think of is making it stop.

"But you will live, Mitsunari-kun," Lord Hanbei continues, and the needle is gleaming in his hand. "Live to offer whatever Hideyoshi might require of you, for as long as he requires it. Whether it's to your liking or no."

He runs a finger down the center of Mitsunari's cock, rests it just above his balls. "Understanding will come later, I'm sure. For now, you might simply try to be grateful."

Mitsunari's resistance is such a petty thing next to Lord Hanbei's truth. It weighs him down more grievously than if his entire skin were pierced through. He's guilty at this very moment of every offense he's ever committed against Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Hanbei, all that he's ever withheld from them, when he even thinks of protecting his own meaningless comfort, and still Lord Hanbei has done all this simply to try and make him better.

He just wants to be better.

The needle is a terrible sharp bite at the base of his cock. It's huge and heavy where it lodges in the delicate flesh, and for far too long a moment he's aware of nothing else, remembers nothing but being split apart where he's most vulnerable. Then he feels Lord Hanbei's inexorable fingers on his shaft, the next needle already a chill point against his skin, and they're so much more than the pain, more than the violation. Nothing has ever been more important.

He will hold still. He will be silent. All his panic, his resistance, they're utterly meaningless. There's nothing else but what's required of him. There never could have been.

Lord Hanbei's tiny smile as he drives the needle home is very beautiful.

It doesn't get any easier to take. It isn't meant to. But he no longer wants it to stop. Doesn't know how to wish for anything but what Lord Hanbei has chosen for him. How he had ever imagined himself to have the right. It was a mistake, he knows, and later he will bow and ask forgiveness, for that and for all his other wrongs, if Lord Hanbei is gracious enough to permit it. But his body is his to move only at his lord's order, and the order was for stillness.

The biting pain of each needle has him hot all over, sweat running over his skin even in the chill room. He can't count them all, can't even see what's happening to him anymore through the tears running down his face. He can only suffer the weight of them as they accumulate along his length, distorting the fragile skin of his cock. He can endure.

His lips have started forming words, he's not sure what, _thank you_ or _I'm sorry_ or _please_. _Allow me to beg for forgiveness_. It doesn't matter. He has no voice to give them.

Lord Hanbei looks up at his face, once, before he's finished, when the underside of his cock is a swollen mass of metal and he can barely breathe around the tears. His smile is sharp and knowing, all the acknowledgement Mitsunari needs.

Lord Hanbei can open his skin a hundred times, leave him wide open and wounded if that's what he's determined. That's simple, unquestionable fact, and if Mitsunari can be considered to have the right to make any judgment on it at all, he can only be glad, that he is here, that he is of the Toyotomi, that he knows unquestioningly, beyond the slightest room for doubt that every fiber of his body is being used and used up as his lords see fit. Lord Hanbei has gone to such lengths to show it to him, when he ought to have known all along, and it's so much more than he deserves. But Lord Hanbei would only have done it if it were right, so all that's left for Mitsunari is to endure, and understand, and obey.

The last pair of needles pierce through the head of his cock, a thick solemn weight just beneath the skin.

Lord Hanbei lays his cock back to rest, the needles clicking against each other to lie ponderously over his balls. He takes his time looking Mitsunari over, removes his glove to explore every inch of flushed tender skin with his fingertips. Even the gentlest touch is hard to bear, but Lord Hanbei's eyes are wide and shining, and he can hear the sharp intake of his breath as Mitsunari shivers at the needles' tiny movements. He even reaches up, when he's finished his examination, and delicately brushes the tears from Mitsunari's cheeks.

"You may speak," he murmurs finally.

Mitsunari opens his mouth to thank Lord Hanbei for his care, but he can't hold back any longer. He can only sob openly, pain and exhaustion and regret leaving him in a long keening wail.

He bends down, slowly, until his forehead is pressed against the floor, sliding his arms from behind his back into a proper bow. His skin shifts around the needles with every slightest movement.

"I'm so sorry," he manages finally between gasping sobbing breaths. "Lord Hanbei, please forgive me, I should have realized better, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

Lord Hanbei makes a soft pleased sound, shifts in front of Mitsunari and reaches down to lift his face from the floor. He turns his head and kisses Lord Hanbei's fingertips, his palm where it brushes past his face.

"Thank you," he gasps. "Thank you, Lord Hanbei, thank you..."

"Mitsunari-kun," says Lord Hanbei, quiet and unyielding, "It's time to stop crying now." He sits back on his heels, lets Mitsunari curl into himself. "I know you're stronger than this. If you have anything more to say to me, you may say it calmly."

Mitsunari holds his breath, swallows his sobs deep into his chest. Long moments pass before he trusts himself to speak.

"Th-thank you, Lord Hanbei," he says once more. His voice is weak and shuddering, but Lord Hanbei allows it. "I've been- I've been so wrong. Arrogant. Self-righteous. That you could still believe me worthy of the trouble you've taken to show me..."

Mitsunari takes a shaky breath. "I-I don't have the right to offer my life without your leave. Without Lord Hideyoshi's leave. I don't have - anything - except what the two of you bid me, I thought I understood, but I resisted--" The sobs start to well up in him again, and he breaks off into more seemly silence.

"You resisted in your intentions," Lord Hanbei agrees, "but you do understand. You stayed still for me, didn't you? That's what I required. The rest will come."

He raises his hand once more to Mitsunari's chest. "You don't like these, do you," he asks, watches Mitsunari's face as he rubs a thumb across the sore flesh of his nipple.

Mitsunari loathes his presence within his own skin. Even breathing, now, is another violation, just a reminder of the countless wounds that make up who he is. With the barest brush of his fingertips Lord Hanbei can reach inside him, make demands more profound than Mitsunari could ever have offered himself. It's painful, it's onerous, it's nothing less than his right, and he can't imagine how to feel anything but gratitude that Lord Hanbei has taken the time and care to make it clear to him.

"Certainly you don't like them," Lord Hanbei fills in the long silence when Mitsunari can't bring himself to speak. "You aren't meant to."

"It doesn't matter," Mitsunari whispers weakly.

Lord Hanbei smiles, and strokes his face. "No," he agrees. "Of course it doesn't."

He toys with the needles at his leisure as if to illustrate his point, kneads his fingers into Mitsunari's skin so it distorts around them. But this time his eyes are fixed on Mitsunari's face, his erection pressed against his thigh, and Mitsunari is only too glad to be allowed to offer himself further when the evidence of Lord Hanbei's pleasure is at hand. He whimpers openly, grateful for Lord Hanbei's answering shiver, but he manages to keep back his sobs.

Before long Lord Hanbei's guiding him to lie on his back, the mass of raw flesh spread out before him.

"I think I can take these out now," he murmurs to Mitsunari. "I know you won't forget what they felt like."

"Of course not, Lord Hanbei," Mitsunari says weakly. He must never forget. He must think of it, always, when he might be tempted to act willfully. He must understand what it is to be Lord Hanbei's, and Lord Hideyoshi's.

Lord Hanbei removes the needles gently and efficiently, sighing his own enjoyment when Mitsunari flinches. It's almost as jarring when they're removed as it had been to have them in, though the pain isn't nearly so much. Instead his flesh feels raw and empty at the edges of the wounds. Like he's been opened in ways that won't close on their own, no matter how quickly his flesh heals.

He remains quiet throughout, though he hasn't been told this time; that's how Lord Hanbei had preferred it, so he leaves him to his work. When he's finished, he daubs at Mitsunari's chest with a warm, wet towel, and Mitsunari turns his head to him, dazzled by the kindness.

"I won't do anything without orders," he murmurs. His voice is a blur of exhaustion, but he wants it said, wants to be sure he's given Lord Hanbei his promise. "Not even a little. I can't. Only your word."

"Oh, Mitsunari-kun," Lord Hanbei says, "You can still learn. That's what this was for, you know. You only need to keep Hideyoshi's wishes in your thoughts, and never, never allow anything else. You can do that, right?"

"I want to," says Mitsunari immediately. "If you think I'm capable, my lord. Oh, I want to."

"Then you'll learn," replies Lord Hanbei. "So long as you remember that that's what's required. I can still teach you that much judgment." He sighs, leaves the towel aside to stroke Mitsunari's hair. "There's still time."

He lets Mitsunari stay like that for long minutes, delicate fingers stroking the hair from his forehead, and Mitsunari's almost breathless at the kindness. He nearly thinks that it's worth it, everything he's endured, just to have Lord Hanbei pay him such consideration - but of course, it's no different, the touch of Lord Hanbei's fingers or the bite of the needle. Each of them is Lord Hanbei's choice, and not Mitsunari's to accept or deny.

He turns into the touch anyway, rests in gratitude until the last of his tears have dried and his breaths have steadied once more.


End file.
